


Star Light, Star Bright

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 19:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard crash-lands his ship. Things could be worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star Light, Star Bright

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://spn-in-space.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://spn-in-space.livejournal.com/)**spn-in-space** challenge.

Richard crawls from the open hatch of his ship coughing and hacking, rubbing his eyes to try and clear them of smoke. His control panel held out long enough for him to break into the atmosphere before going up in flames, and he supposes he should be grateful for small mercies.

That's not much of an upside when he considers that he's on an alien planet with no way to get home and no clue what to expect here. And he's hurt, judging by the sharp stabs of pain lancing through his leg every time he moves. Probably broken, and doesn't that just figure?

He gets far enough from the ship that he can be reasonably sure he's safe if parts of it start exploding, and then collapses onto his back, breathing rough and shallow, still coughing like a chain-smoker and sweating like a pig. His vision is graying, and he allows himself the smallest whimper when the pain in his leg doesn't let up for an instant.

This was not how he planned on his solo expedition ending.

He decides that unconsciousness will probably bring some sort of relief and lets the world go dark.

~

The next time he opens his eyes, the sky is beginning to darken, and the air has become cool against his skin. But after the fire and the heat and the chaos of his unexpected crash-landing, it feels more like a balm than anything, and Richard takes a few deep breaths to test his breathing. Better, a little, though he really should see a doctor about it, not to mention the leg he doesn't dare move.

He wonders if this world even has doctors.

He stares up at the sky, watching as the stars begin winking into existence, one by one. _Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight_ , he thinks arbitrarily, but then he closes his eyes and wishes as hard as he can. _I need help. Please._

A breeze ruffles through the long grass he's lying in. Richard didn't really notice much when he first struggled out of his ship, aside from being exceptionally grateful for a breathable atmosphere. But now if he squints, he's fairly positive the grass is a pretty shade of sea-blue instead of the green he would normally expect. At least the sky looks the same, similar enough to Earth to calm his mind a little, even if it's just a comforting illusion.

The jingle of bells doesn't register at all, at first. Combined with the ringing in his ears, it's amazing he hears it at all, and by the time he does, the creature is practically on top of him.

He jerks, cries out against the instant flare of agony, and then someone is sliding off the back of the…horse? Is that what the thing is? He peers at it through the haze of pain and decides that yes, it is rather horse-like, in spite of the shaggy white hair and extra set of legs and hooves.

He forgets entirely about the rider until the man is kneeling down next to him and pressing a hand to his forehead.

Richard stares up into the bluest eyes he's ever seen before, and the man smiles at him gently. His dark hair is wind-ruffled and his cheeks are rosy from the cold air, and he looks decidedly human, in spite of the fact that Richard knows he can't be. Not this far out in the cosmos. Not half a million light-years from home.

"Who are you?" he asks, his voice scratchy in his throat. It almost sets him coughing again, but the man's other hand comes up to press two fingers to his neck, and the feeling dissipates like it never was.

"Shh," the man says, and the hand on Richard's forehead comes down to cover his eyes.

Richard sinks back into sleep's embrace.

~

"You are awake," is the first thing Richard hears the next time he wakes. "Good."

He blinks blearily at the blue-eyed man he was half convinced he'd dreamed up. "You speak English?" he wonders aloud.

"I encourage my minions to be able to speak all known languages. What sort of overlord would I be if I did not do the same?" the man asks him, then leans close, like he's about to share a deeply-guarded secret. "Although between you and me, my Xjento pronunciation is terrible." He sits back again, eyes glinting. "Even if you had not spoken to me in the place where your ship crashed, I would have determined you to be either of Earth or Nanseen origin based on your physiology, which is ninety-eight-point-seven percent similar to our own. As you did not have any weapons of mass destruction on your person, it would have been a fair bet that you were, in fact, human."

Richard blinks, taking that in. "Uh…"

"You have been asleep for two and a half rotations of the planet. I was beginning to wonder if you were staying asleep on purpose." The man grins, bouncing in place and fixing Richard with what can only be described as an eager look. "We do not often get visitors to our planet, but you must be curious, yes? Are you feeling well enough to explore?" His smile broadens. "Also, my name is Misha."

"Richard," Richard responds dazedly, tentatively taking stock of all the places on his body he expects to ache. He's amazed to discover, though, that his leg is entirely healed. In fact, he feels no pain at all when he shifts and stretches his legs, spine, and arms. He feels better than he has in _years_ , and he wonders what sort of technology this planet must have to encourage such rapid healing. Surely, it has to be amazing. "Yes," he tells Misha belatedly, turning a wide-eyed gaze on his unexpected benefactor. "Exploring sounds terrific."

Misha beams at him.

~

"So…overlord?" Richard asks as they wander outside. The air is cool but not cold, perfect for the billowy white cotton-like shirt and comfortable suede-like pants he'd been given to wear.

"It is the closest approximation to my role that you have in your somewhat limited range of words. But yes, I am the primary ruler of this planet." Misha spreads his arms wide. "Welcome to Mishanto," he says with another of his easy grins.

Even as he's raising a disbelieving eyebrow at his guide, Richard turns to look at the world beyond the underground home they've just exited. All around is shimmering field as far as the eye can see, blue grass and bluer skies and splashes of orange and purple and pink where wildflowers grow in patches. The hatch Misha closed behind them is invisible, covered over with the same grass, and if Richard didn't already know it was there, he'd never guess.

"Does everyone live underground?" he asks, wondering if he should be worried about the environment or some sort of attack.

"Oh no," Misha assures him as they begin walking. "That is my preference only. Most of the people here live in the town, where your ship is being seen to as we speak. We will go there now. Do you like fruit? The fruit festival is today! Our normal diet consists of milk from the pasture animals raised in the north, and bread from the plants that grow in the fields to the east. Fruit is a rare commodity, but once a year we gather all the kinds we can find and share it amongst ourselves." He shoots a glance at Richard. "The only thing necessary for participation is a promise that you will obey the law of this world. "

"Law?" Richard asks. "Singular?"

"Yes." Misha nods happily. "The only law here is the Principle Decree."

Richard can _hear_ the capital letters. He smothers his snort of laughter. "And what would that be?"

Misha stops walking abruptly, staring at Richard with a solemn gaze. "Kindness," he says. "We must always be kind to each other, no matter the circumstance." His gaze narrows. "Remember that, Richard of Earth. Do not take the Principle Decree lightly." And then his grin abruptly returns, as though it never left.

 _Well then_ , Richard thinks, blinking a little.

Without warning, Misha whistles sharply through his teeth, and, almost immediately, Richard hears a familiar jingling. He turns, unsurprised to find himself face-to-face with the horse-like creatures he has a vague recollection of from the night before.

"Come," Misha says imperiously, swinging up onto the creature's back and holding a hand out to Richard. "We will ride to the town on Faloe. It will be faster."

With a growing sense of trepidation, Richard finds himself seated behind Misha, hands resting gingerly at the man's hips as the creature beneath them breaks into an easy trot.

~

The town is nothing like Richard might have expected, but he's already done being surprised when his expectations are shredded and stomped on.

There are a good number of people but not as many as he thought there'd be. They wander around with baskets of fruit and jovial smiles. They greet each other with hugs, even the men, and the children play in the streets without fear of chastisement. They talk, and they laugh, and there's not a hint of bitterness or anger or disappointment or any sort of negativity at all.

Richard never thought something like that was even possible.

There are fresh stalls set up along the road to pass out brightly-colored fruits to passersby, and, between that and the simple clothing everyone wears, it's almost like something out of a storybook about simpler times on earth.

But the houses and storefronts behind them are domes made of a shiny metallic element, with gleaming spires that point straight up from the centers. Nothing like that ever existed that Richard can remember reading about.

The road is nothing but packed dirt, and more of the six-legged creatures like Faloe are visible by people's homes and stalls. Not a car of any kind in sight, which means Richard's ship, visible at the end of the long main street, stands out sharply.

"My ship…" he starts, tentatively, just as Misha stops his horse and slides down, tugging Richard with him.

"It will be fine, perhaps even better than new. The minions are very capable, I promise."

"Okay," Richard says, a little doubtful.

"Come!" Misha says. " _Fruit!_ "

Richard shakes his head, unable to stop the grin from peeking out, and follows.

~

All told, Richard spends three weeks in Misha's spacious underground home, sleeping on a bed that feels like a cloud and spending his days going into town. With Misha's permission, he documents his thoughts on the little recording device he recovers from his ship, making note of all the things he learns about the strange world while he's there.

He talks about the layout of the land as Misha takes him to see more of it, the odd shape of the flowers and the cool colors of the grass, the water that runs forever pure and the skies that smell of peppermint in the evenings.

He talks about the people Misha introduces him to, with their strange customs and their delightful personalities, their quirky accents and their spectacular stories.

He talks about their histories, the hundreds and hundreds of books filled with incredible paintings that depict the evolution of this world.

He talks about their passions, the way each of them does exactly what they want with their lives, the way they don't worry about money or prestige and instead focus on the things that give them fulfillment and joy.

Eventually, he learns how Misha healed him that first day, and then he talks about their _gifts_. The one-point-three-percent difference in their DNA, which allows them to do things like heal or teleport or play with the wind. Each of them so different, each of them _special_ , and yet, they don't see it that way. They never speak of it unless asked directly; they use their gifts when it's necessary for them to do so, but never to show off.

Richard is awed, by these people, by this whole _world_. He could spend a dozen lifetimes here, he realizes, and never learn all its secrets.

~

"I don't understand," he finally admits, when his ship is nearly complete and he's recorded hours and hours of observations.

"Hmmm?" Misha asks, distractedly brushing Faloe's coat.

Richard waves a hand, trying to figure out how to word everything he wants to say. "You have the technology to access intergalactic subspace transmissions and build ships of your own, but you ride horseback whenever you need to go somewhere and you never actually leave your planet. You speak twelve different alien languages and know the basics of fifty more, but all of your histories are recorded in pictographs. You're the healthiest race I've ever come across in five years of space travel, but you exist almost entirely on a simple diet of wheat and dairy. You have these incredible gifts that you barely talk about, let alone use." He flaps his hands, trying to make Misha understand why none of this makes sense. "You have the capacity to be one of the greatest, most advanced races in the universe, but you live like…"

Misha puts the brush down and gives Faloe a pat before he turns to face Richard. He raises an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, looking downright superior even before he opens his mouth to say, "We live _happily_ , earthling. We are at our core a simple people, and we want for nothing. We live our lives by our own terms with only the simple edict to be kind to one another to govern us. Why 'better' ourselves when all of us here are happier than any of the billions of people on your own world?"

Richard doesn't want to admit that he has a point, but. Well. He does in fact have a point. Put like that, it's impossible for Richard not to feel sort of depressed with his own lot in life. "Oh," he finally says, conceding the issue.

"Richard," Misha says, looking as though he's choosing his words very carefully. He reaches out and places a hand over Richard's own. "When your ship is finished, you do not have to leave. You can stay here and have that happiness as your own."

Richard can't admit, even to himself, how much he wants that. He turns his hand, curls his fingers around Misha's and holds tightly.

But he can't say it.

Not even when Misha adds, "This is the only time I have made this offer to anyone. I find myself hoping you will consider it. I promise I will not even call you a minion!" He smiles brightly at this, but even Richard can't miss the way his eyes dim when he doesn't get an answer.

~

Work on the ship is completed the following day. Richard laughs as he hugs every person around who helped work on it, and they all babble animatedly to him about how exciting his travels must be.

Misha stands at the back of the small crowd, one side of his mouth tugged up in a smile, his eyes fixed on Richard even when it's clear he'd rather be looking anywhere else.

Richard didn't sleep a wink last night, playing the last few weeks over in his mind. Thinking about the unlikely friendship he's developed with Misha, and the way this planet has opened itself to him like it's already his home, and how he'd be leaving so much more than he'd be returning to if he left.

In spite of his last several years of travel, exploring some of the farthest reaches of the universe, Earth is the place he knows best. It's always been home, and the idea of losing it forever…

…is not, in fact, nearly as daunting as it should be. And isn't that answer enough?

He smiles at Misha, nods to the people still jabbering away at him, and ducks into his ship one last time. He records a small message for his parents, his friends, the few people who shouldn't have to spend their lives wondering.

And then he sets the coordinates on the shiny, new control panel, and climbs back out. He walks toward Misha as the ship begins to lift off the ground, and the people around them are already cheering even as he pulls the man into a warm embrace.

"I'll stay," he says, and Misha buries his brilliant smile in the skin of Richard's neck.

Behind him, the ship hovers for one last moment, and then it's gone, out of the atmosphere and into the stars, headed for home.

For _Earth_.

Because this is his home now.

"First thing we're doing," Richard says, "is changing the name of your planet."

Misha's laugh is brighter than starlight.


End file.
